


The Best Time

by clue20



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 12:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7757209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clue20/pseuds/clue20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junkrat reminisces of his past to Symmetra. Really just a nice relaxing night beach scene, a lil' drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Time

**Author's Note:**

> honestly?? ok honestly I've been listening to a lot of Childish Gambino and Pop Thieves & Late Night in Kauai has just transported me to a beach scene of junkmetra. n I'm sorry it's not much but I just thought it'd be a lil cute and would give some history of Junkrat's time at Australia. I really love this ship and I wanna give it more love!! I feel like we've got such a small fanbase for it. nevertheless, hope ya like it, I might work on somethin' more for it

Junkrat had been having nightmares for some time now. They're usually nothing, just bits and pieces of running and stealing with Mako at home, but it was enough to wake him up. He usually can't remember what they're about, but his heart would beat a million miles a minute, just thinking about the excitement and adrenaline pumping through him. He tried not to think about the Outback, but it was impossible. Delving into that small, closed space into his mind was nearly like a drug. Just thinking about making a building crumbling, stones and dirt flying, the smell of the ash, some blood-- god, it made his legs bounce and his fingers fidget. He wanted more. He needed it.

But he knew he couldn't. He fought in his own head for a while, rubbing his thumb across a particularly pokey part of his bedding and staring at the much too bright moon across from him. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he saw one. The barracks at Gibraltar were closed off, just a room with a small window carved out near the top. He entertained the thought of being held prisoner but quickly scolded himself before letting his hand rest on his chest. He was hot again.

It was one of those things that he knew was bad, but it wouldn't kill him. The dreams and the lingering effect of radiation usually didn't bother him as much as it should. His body constantly felt ill, attempting to burn out some bad omen in his ribs.

Jamison kicked up his sheets and noticed he was glaring at the moon. He shifted his gaze to the ceiling instead, and let out a frustrated huff. He was so tired. His body wanted to melt into the sheets and stay there for an eternity, but his mind wanted to fix up a sketch onto his notepad. It made him calmer, just thinking about it, but his arm didn't want to cooperate. He counted for a couple seconds in his head before springing out of bed, letting his feet-- foot-- fuck.

He hit the wood underneath him. His toes curled in reaction, and his vision seemed to become darker than the room itself. 

Looking over at the window again, he made a deal with himself. He'd go outside for a couple minutes. Just a couple. Then he'd come back inside and finally rest. Thinking about the action seemed made his eyelids lower just a little more, finding himself lazily staring at the white wood wrapping around the window, just sprawled on the floor. He heard the creaking of the wood underneath him, the kind where he knew it was the wind, but did he really know it was the wind? He listening to the air conditioning run above him, the cool air making him sit up and open his eyes widely. Leg-- peg-- where--

Junkrat grasped around for a second before feeling the familiar structure underneath the bed. He pulled it out and raised it to his mouth, biting the strap and pulling the opposite side away with his fingers. He brought it to his leg and heard the familiar click give a small alarm to his head before twisting. It snapped in comfortably, and he bent it quickly. The metal between his caps moved accordingly, and he pushed himself up and leaned into the stance. He grabbed his second prosthetic and had some trouble pulling it on with his left hand and mouth, but was eventually able to get it into place. Jamison felt the ghost of other limbs, like usual. He put it behind him quickly, like usual. And he reminded himself of how much fun he had getting himself to be this way. It was worth it.

An alarm clock seemed to stare right at him once he turned to the small table next to his bed. He set the alarm for 8 am this morning, planning to work on some more schematics for a bomb inside of his dusty traps. A clever idea at the time, but a mess now. Jamison squinted at the alarm, trying to process the time. He stared at it for a couple seconds, just inhaling. He turned around, exhaled, and immediately forgot it. All it told him was that it was too early to be awake.

He trudged towards the door, having some apprehension before opening it. He rushed it, letting the wind hit his face, and moved on. His gait on the floorboards were much too noisy for his taste. The small hallway seemed to be more threatening than usual, and when he turned, noticed a small figure walking to the door he was headed to. He stopped immediately, taking in small breaths, just watching.

The figure stopped as well and turned towards him. The air seemed tense, too thick. This was a bad idea, he bashed himself. He could've just stayed in his room. Jamison could've just kept glaring at the moon.

"...Junkrat?" A soft voice called out.

Symmetra.

It was just Symmetra. Junkrat smiled, relief and playfulness flooding the room.

"Oi." He responded, sliding his hand against the wall to bring him to reality. He seemed to be slipping for a second.

Silence.

"I... I couldn't sleep," she admitted to the night.

It was quiet for a couple more seconds, the response meeting his unasked question. Justified.

They both could hear the overlapping of the waves outside. Leaves brushed up against each other and chanted a relaxed tone. The air conditioning began to slow down and finally turn off. The room was still cool, and Junkrat watched Symmetra under the tilted moonlight. He still couldn't quite make out anything besides her silhouette. He was curious. Wondering what she was thinking. Was sure she'd badger him for being awake at the blatant hour.

She had no idea he had heart-pumping dreams. He had an itch to tell the secret.

"What are you doing?" She started up again in that unwavering voice. Always perfect. Balanced. Could never just allow a silence without a solid question.

"Bein' awake with ya, sheila. And what a nice surprise!" He let out a laugh, feeling the last bit of tension dissipate.

"I'm afraid I can't reciprocate the feeling," she replied, letting out a small exhale of a laugh.

Junkrat could hear the smile. He could just see it shyly showing itself on her face, and it gave him a certain satisfaction. No doubt she was a hard woman, and it felt like a privilege to hear her at night. It made him feel giddy and a little apprehensive. The front of the large expansion of a building didn't feel right at night, especially not with her. They were visually impaired, they were sleepy, they were vulnerable.

And it he was honest to himself, it felt nice. He might be the only one who's seen her like this.

"Aw, ye breakin’ me poor heart!” he slapped his hand against his chest and exaggerated a frown.

Symmetra hummed for a second before slicing the banter with another question. “Were you planning on going to the shoreline?”

“Plannin’ on just going outside, but I don’ mind coming with ya,” Junkrat said, letting another giggle escape. His fingers fidgeted against the wall, and he went back to his usual crouched position.

“Please,” Symmetra responded. The tension inflated the room again, and Jamison’s chest tightened. The bad omen started up another fight.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied quickly, walking towards the door, “don’t worry, I’ll be with ya.”

Junkrat opened the door and waved her to him with his left hand. She followed silently, walking past him, allowing him to let go of it behind her.

“Really, why were you unable to sleep?” she inquired as she began her first footsteps along the stone path in front of the building, sparking some of Junkrat’s nerves.

He walked behind her, the night air even colder than inside. His bare feet touched the cold sand once the trail ended, watching her petite form in front of him.

“I, ah…” he glanced to the trees, as if asking the branches to give him some time, “dreaming.”

 

“Dreaming?”

“Yeah,” he looked down at the grainy sand, getting closer and closer to the water. Eventually, Symmetra stopped and looked around.

“It’s-- they’re bad dreams,” he cleared up, staring at her as her head swivelled back and forth, the moon occasionally catching her eyes.

“I… I have several bad dreams about our work, as well, Jamison,” she said sincerely.

Junkrat froze for a second, his real name echoing through his head. It felt strange to say it aloud, as if it made it real. As if it made him exist. Just for her.

Just for tonight.

“‘S not about the missions,” he replied immediately. He sunk his toes into the dark sand, feeling it clump and dig underneath his toenails.

Symmetra’s head stopped in front of him, dipping down to stare at the overlapping waves. The sound sent a strange feeling throughout Junkrat. He almost wanted to shiver.

“I see,” she responded in a final sort of way. Junkrat could almost see her turning around and walking past him back to the house. He didn’t want this to stop.

“It’s the-- it’s home. I remember…” he trailed off, not sure if what he was about to do would be a good decision, but wanting to beg for her presence.

Insects chirped behind him, trees swaying. Symmetra breathed softly. Hardly audible above the gentle waves. He thought for a couple seconds, inhaling.

He backed up and kneeled, sitting down in the sand.

Symmetra turned around, the sound probably alarming her. Her face was unreadable, as it always was. He couldn’t get any hints. He decided he probably should stop talking, so he did, and looked back up at her.

She walked right next to him and planted herself in the sand at well. Her hands wrapped around her pajamas.

It was noted. Junkrat knew she doesn’t like being dirty. He knew the sand would get on her pajamas, it would get in the worst places, it would annoy her for days to come-- but she still did it. It was significant, and he just stared and smirked in a sort of wonder and that apprehension that comes when you know that something big is about to happen.

“I know a lot of bad things happened,” she nearly whispered, staring at the waves, “I know you ran a lot, I know you saw a lot.”

It all seemed rushed out, too fast. Junkrat couldn’t soak it all in. It seemed to hard to believe, in the midnight waves and dark sky and wind against his hair. How was he going to remember this? How was he going to feel privileged, important enough to withhold what she’s about to say?

She pressed her chin into her knee and glanced up at the sky. “What do you miss?”

Junkrat sucked in some air, the moment washing over him. He followed her gaze and saw all the stars, bright white lights, speckling the sky. He saw the moon, just barely waned.

He looked over at her. Her expression was solemn. Like she saw the stars all the time.

She probably did.

“The best time,” he paused, and let the moment pass over him some more. Listened to the night chirping and rustling leaves.

“Was when,” he paused again, “well… b’fore the whole… y’know…”

Symmetra simply nodded and switched her gaze to him. He noticed he was hot in that second.

“The blast knocked out the whole sky,” he locked his gaze onto hers, “So it’s a little hard-- y’kno’-- for me to remember all the stars, hell, even a moon that was a circle and not just a smudged white light.”

Symmetra nodded again, snapping off the gaze to look at the sand.

“Well, a frienda’ mine and I, we liked to go lay on some... old cars and lay there-- like-- like real junkers, and jus’ stare at the sky,” he let of a small giggle before continuing.

“One time, we got a tent and just set out in the middle of the yard and we’d crawl out and stare some more,” he raised a hand and spread it, as if indicating the layout somehow.

 

“That is your best memory?” Symmetra interrupted softly.

Junkrat switched back to her, giving a playful glare. “What, ‘s not good ‘nough for ya?”

“No, no, I just--” she pursed her lips, “I’ve never had the time for something like that,”

“Except now, a’ course,” Junkrat replied, smiling.

Symmetra’s eyes widened and tore her gaze away from him to stare at the waves. She didn’t respond, and Junkrat did the same, staring at the shadowed white foam bubbling atop the sand.

It was the one night he was glad he had a nightmare.

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda gettin' a feel for both of the characters. Australian accents are hard to get down and Junkrat is such a wild card and I wanna write him right so I'll be workin on it!! also Junkrat is just not okay? but like most of the overwatch characters have got some real deep problems and I feel like we don't really talk about it enough  
> so yeah cool cool this was nice to write


End file.
